


On Board with it

by ag_writes (fict_addict)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fict_addict/pseuds/ag_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 8<br/>Genre: Romance, Getting together<br/>Scenario: Iruka sees Kakashi on the train everyday on his way to work, but is too shy to talk to him until an over crowded train puts them in close, yet extremely pleasurable physical contact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Board with it

There he was, _that_  regular of this route’s 7:13 and one of Iruka's discreet eye-candy people, steadily growing more necessarily discreet as he’d found his attraction to the man and his ridiculously striking hairstyle slowly outranking that of others -- a particular coursemate, the evening lab tech, the friendlier barista at his second-most frequented cafe, among others -- it seemed every time (practically every morning; he'd become a highlight of Iruka’s morning of-sorts) he did run into the bloke something new about the man would occur to, and stick with, him a good part of  if not the whole day.

Plate-backed gloves that cut off past the webbing between lean, articulate fingers. Said long dexterous fingers as they casually flipped a page of the scandalously titled novel held open in the same hand. How they seem to absently adjust the usually thin material of the ever-present scarf the man keeps wrapped around his neck and up over nose, but the careless movements never fail to leave the drapes effortlessly just-so and jealously guarding pale features and neck against the elements. The indifferent set of the single eye visible between the fall of hair and what looks like a habitual if not medical eyepatch of sorts. The way said eye crinkles sometimes while the man reads, in somewhat-inordinately visible amusement at whatever is happening in his (mostly, so far; Iruka has wondered how many books that series has) inappropriate-for-public-consumption reading material. The lazy roll of it toward the offensive bugger who dared to break morning's transit sanctity by answering a call that was Obviously Not Urgent. The silent sweep of his feet as the oblivious perpetrator trespassed the third time that week with the same culprit on the end of the line; that one had been a day. Good for the count, bad for Iruka's interest meter. He’d begun to grit his teeth and count to ten when the man's phone was blinked at and raised to the side of a blond head -- he'd probably not hold back if this were the evening commute, but losing his rather loud temper in such a confined space this early in the morning (pre-coffee, no less) was hardly going to ingratiate him to anyone within earshot either-- and just as the now-familiar nasal tones of the compulsively carriage-chathappy man’s caller came chirruping through, he (and everyone else) was saved by the quick crossing-over of the long-legged stranger. The man slouched like his life depended on it, but his presence and attention somehow loomed in lieu of actually using his height over the average build of the other passenger; his voice low and level yet pitched to carry effortlessly past the little structure of fabric around his face and then some. “In trains, a person could stand to be a little considerate to their fellow commuters,” he said simply, and the fingers not holding his book (the title not actually something suspicious today, Iruka realised) were ending the call and replacing the phone into the hand still at the stunned man’s ear. Smiles popped up around the cabin though the only ones the tall figure seemed to notice was the young gakuran-clad student who'd actually stepped up to shake the silver-haired stranger's hand with quietly-spoken thanks and the little old lady who patted his arm as he settled back into his spot alongside her. The genial nod and no-trouble tilt of the head he’d given the youth and the little.. smile, he supposed, that he’d given the grandmother; somewhat like the amused crinkle-of-eye but more..socially directed, or something. (Or something. The man and his little clues seemed full of or-somethings…)

He’s there again today, after all, and Iruka's glad his morning mishap hasn't cost him his train, his punctuality record and his morning eye candy. He supposes if he were to really look at his rankings the lead the tall man with the pale windswept hair has over the rest is, indeed, actually so far ahead as to negate said rest of the list; Iruka isn’t going to admit it to himself but having semi-stalked the guy from platform to train to platform just about every morning for almost four months now he might have a bit of an interest in the man. It’s not a crush on a stranger he knows nothing about; it’s not.

(Knows nothing about.. Except his taste in clothing, somewhat, his taste in literature, somewhat, that he gets annoyed with transgressors of basic train etiquette and absolutely has the balls to deal with -- and the patience/benefit of the doubt/faith in humanity to allow chances before doing so, even.. That he might work or have business in the vicinity of the university district, that he occasionally gets a can of black coffee on cold mornings at the machine outside the station, that he’s currently on a reading (rereading, if Iruka made assumptions on the books’ belonging to him) spree of Akutagawa Ryuunosuke classics.. Iruka shoves the thought and the droll, long-suffering voice listing what-he-.does.-know that sounds like Izumo-whose-Thursday-drinks-he-covers-else-Anko-gets-‘secondhand-infatuated-whining’ away as soon as he realises he’s thinking it.)

His own inadvertent dallying hadn’t made him late, but an apologetic announcement on repeat over the public-address explains the inordinately populated platform with over half the faces displaying varying degrees of exasperation, resignation and panicky distress. Iruka would be feeling more sympathetic if he weren’t tight on a deadline or three himself; with the morning’s breakdown the subsequent trains are all ridiculously packed, and Iruka bemoans the loss of the extra review time he'd budgeted in for his presentation in the evening. As the train pulls in he sees there’s hardly going to be space to draw out his file holding the proposal and notes without crumpling the heck out of the A4 sheets, let alone review and annotate -- assuming he even has space to wrestle the relevant material out of his cumbersomely large A2 portfolio-carry bag; whoever’s stuck squished around him is going to hate him at the route’s jerks and turns, ohwells. Part of him is also long resigned to the glimpses he’d caught of his silver-haired fellow regular earlier being all he’d see of the guy for the day, in what is obviously going to be sardine-packing rather more typical of mid-city peak hour crowds. Maybe he’d have at least enough space to review the slides on his phone, though it’s rather more likely he’ll end up on the Thursdays!chatgroup if he has phone-viewing space, or asleep on his feet.

He's already back-toward against the carriage-connector wall and about to step in further to fill the space-pocket to his left when someone or something shoves him hard just as he shifts his centre of gravity and he staggers in a turn he hadn't intended to make, finding himself pressed face-toward the wall between a tower of humongous hiking backpack and a long arm bracketing him in essentially a sort of kabe-don, back against a taller body, if the arm’s angle and elbow are anything to go by. Iruka's just turning his face back from narrow-eyed annoyance at the mountain of canvas-wrapped travel stuff when the arm’s owner speaks. “That was incredibly rude of him,” and the voice runs a frisson of recognition down Iruka's exposed nape even as his gaze snaps right and registers the palm wrapped in dark fabric(no plate-back, today?) and the racy title of today's novel (oh, he’s done with Akutagawa it seems, someone notes in his head) against its sombre-looking jacket colouration. He's only ever heard that voice once, but he can tell which attractive stranger he's stuck with (against, under; he doesnot think) for the next waytoolongforthis. He manages a half-shrug, half-shake of head, and tightens his grip on his bulky portfolio-bag’s strap as the quiet little laugh filters past the back of his ear. No ridiculous turning-red, self, he warns. “Nevertheless.. Less audience is better, though I'd hoped to get acquainted face-to-face rather than with the equally fetching back of your neck,” the voice’d been lightly nonchalant but as if indeed the lack of eye contact lowered inhibitions it had deepened as he spoke and Iruka felt a little lightheaded as he failed himself entirely. It's too early to be hallucinating being hit on by his almost-selfservice fodder, and the man is going to be weirded out by another guy’s ears turning red in a situation of necessity rather than choice and he'd wanted to keep a good, .negligible. impression, damnit. But there was a surprised curse on a quiet breath of a chuckle. “You're fifty times more adorable up close; I've never known myself for a nape or ears man, but that's changing by the second. I don't think I'm going to be able to stop myself from flirting with you the whole way to the university stop, actually.” Iruka's shoulders had stiffened in disbelief at the voice at his ear -- he's surely got the wrong person, he thinks wildly. Coffee, damnit, of all days he should’ve gotten coffee. His brain; something was wrong with it, probably. The other man, though, clearly had no issues with being conversational this early. “You look great today, too, although I envy your dojo-mates. Maybe your students? I bet you're a sight doing kata practice. The day you wore that shirt I almost ditched my schedule to check out the day's class, you know.. The next time I see you in it I just might, sensei..?” Iruka's throat swallowed around air -- he did teach young entrants at the dojo, and helped with instructional coaching at the uni, but no one’d ever made the title ‘sensei’ quite so appealing--, and he tried to wet his throat again as the other went on. “I take a different style, but I'd love to spar with you.. from the looks I've been seeing, you might not mind sparring with me, either..?” There was no audible inflection in either of the times he'd used the word  _sparring_ , but Iruka's mind was a dirty traitor that way, even as it rang _he knows, he knows_ at him. The stranger seemed to rein himself in a little. “..my right instep,” he murmured, right against Iruka's ear, the light mesh fabric of the day’s scarf a touch against his skin, “is a step diagonally to the right behind your right foot. You can stop me at any time, even merely bid me desist-- just say to, and I promise not to make any outward sign in retaliation that would embarrass you.”

Iruka swallowed again. “You don't even know my name,” he said quietly, and his voice thankfully did not play him out as he managed his first verbal response.

“But we've been eyeing each other for months now, haven't we,” came the murmured reply, and maybe it was a bit relieved or even pleased that Iruka hadn't put a quick and violent end to their interaction. He spoke a touch slower now, too, though Iruka had no time to wonder if strung-on sentences were a sign of nervousness; “I beg to differ, though -- and I beg your enlightenment on your first name, Umino-san.” Iruka cursed himself for a fool; he must have worn the faculty team-issue jersey at some point or something, probably on a game day; his blood rushing about his brain -- he’d been seen watching, been watched himself; wait, wait: _months_..?!-- was about the only reason he gave in first to the other’s before his own need to know a name.

“Iruka,” he murmured, somehow not drowned out by the underrumble of their transport. “Umino Iruka.”

“ _Iruka_ ,” the stranger breathed, delighted, tasting the name, and he suppressed a shudder as best as he could. “Strong. Intelligent. Playful, even mischievous; lithe, vital, laughing, sensuous -- I love it, it suits what little I know of you beautifully,” and Iruka's face was firmly in warm territory; he’d been completely blindsided by the unexpected, and the impacts were still incoming.

“ _I_  still don't know your name,” he managed.

“And how rude of me, indeed. I am Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi; nowhere near the loving resonance of your name, unfortunately.” Iruka drank in the name and formed it on his lips all but silently, and the breath stopped mid-inhale behind his ear, as if he'd heard. “Will you not say it again, lend your voice to such a desolate name; I'd love to hear you speak more, I've seen you talk and laugh from my distance, of course, but now that there's this one chance, I --”

“Kakashi-san,” Iruka exhaled the syllables quietly, the honorific bringing to his attention the sound of it in his voice, and he flushed lightly again, the words escaping him with no chance of thought before. “Your name.. it's poetic, I think. And it does rather suit you; I, I like it a lot. And I want -- I would like more than one chance. To, to talk to you; I've never dared to approach, to get to know you and,” he leaned his forehead to the vibrating surface as his voice dropped to nothingness. “and I want more than just--” _I want you_ , and his body throbbed with the truth of words he only mouthed silently on the exhale as his words failed him.

A low groan, placed against the shawl’s mesh at his jaw. “ _Iruka.”_ The fabric shifted; “Iruka, may I kiss you,” a touch of cloth at his neck and Iruka’s breath caught on the intake as he mindlessly shifted into the touch, leaning toward the man. Warm lips pressed against the skin on the side of his neck, behind where his jaw angled at the neck and below-behind his ear and Iruka's entire body jolted as a hot tongue pressed down into the tendon beneath. A warm touch met his left hand clutching at the wall and he clung to the fingers that fell between his as he forgot to actually breathe, eyes closed and mouth falling slightly open in silent shallow pants as his body began to heat with every touch and caress of tongue and thumb against skin and muscle. He moaned silently into the thrum of the vehicle and felt the man -- Kakashi-- shudder as he leaned closely into his space, just before his mouth moved, so very slowly kissing and tonguing downward into the length of the tendon, the caresses tasting, then deliberate, massaging and delving deep in each press upon the skin. Iruka's brain threw up the sensual imagery of that virile tongue elsewhere on his body he'd never even allowed actual thought about with regard to this particular man before and he whimpered soundlessly against the right hand that had abandoned his bag strap to brace its back against his mouth, a failsafe against himself. The lips slowed, stalled the tongue’s progress and made their way back up, ensuring Iruka's neck was left mostly dry though rewracking his nerves. Then the murmur was back, with briefly tasting kisses around Iruka’s ear and didn't let up any; the hand over his shifting to caress, thumb massaging warmth and pressure into receptive spots on his hand and wrist Iruka never knew existed while that deadly voice dropped into sensuality and murmured want after suggestion into the maelstrom he’d made of Iruka’s thoughts. “You taste so good, better than I imagined; I want to kiss you on the mouth, I want to get coffee and lunch and whatever with you, I want to feel you laugh in my arms -- I want to meet your Thursday friends and watch them poke fun at your temper and get to listen while I watch you hand them their ass in return. and I want to see your smile during those phone calls light up when you meet whoever it is in person and I want to spar with you and take you home: I want to feel you arching under my mouth and spilling over my hand--”

“ _Kakashi_ ,” Iruka gasped under his shortening breath, face flaming and half-hard, mind whirling. Oh, gods, he wanted. Yes, _yes_. All of that and more. At the same time in the back of his mind he wondered how long, how much more the man had seen of him than he'd seen of Kakashi -- but he wanted to feel the man so much more all of a sudden; his body wanted, his heart wanted--

“Hold my book,” came the suggestion, and Iruka's right hand obeyed even bewildered for the moment. The ma-- Kakashi shifted Iruka’s overlarge bag’s strap up more firmly on his shoulder and Iruka nodded a thanks before the words were back, with the the added menace of strong fingers gliding up his side, caressing his waist. “If you allow me to take you over now, let me feel you pulsing as you come.. I have a rubber that’ll save the wet. Will you let me see your face as I pleasure you, as you come by my hand…?”

_You’re absolutely joking_ , said the stunned-horrified Izumo-Asuma-Kotetsu voice that sounded a lot like Iruka himself -- and then all the reasons this, this proposal of sheer daring crazy wasn't the best idea fizzled out in the moment the lean, firm body behind him pressed close against his own, and he felt the insistent pressure of Kakashi’s heat against the globe of his ass as the _oh how I want you_ murmured, yearning and strained against his neck where he'd been first kissed. “I-- yes,” he capitulated in a correspondingly voiceless whisper, despairingly desperate for this man. “This is a terrible idea but please, yes--”

“..I want to kiss you breathless, Iruka. And let you feel how hard I am for you against your own, drown my fingers in your hair, feel your hands in mine.. would you consider touching me as well, sometime,” the hand on the left left his, Kakashi’s words so low they rumbled through Iruka's back to him as the nimble fingers tore open a suddenly-there packet and it disappeared again and the backs of knuckles brushed down the front of his slacks, pressing down alongside the fly where Iruka was well on the way to full-mast. Iruka's breath exhaled and his large bag was adjusted again even as Kakashi moved them both and angled himself over Iruka and guarded the shorter man's face with his own against outside eyes. “..let me feel your hand tight around me, my pleasure at your merc--y--,” Iruka pressed himself back into the hard length resting against his ass, and Kakashi’s continuing stream of words faltered as he exhaled a silent little gust of air at the movement and resultant pressure, and the fingers tracing firm against the fabric covering around Iruka’s still-hardening length. “-- Work me off, like how you usually work yourself off.. ohh, I want to see you work yourself off, Iruka--”

The hand had made it through his outerwear and those fingers all but curled themselves around him as they flexed, firm and strong through his underwear and he ground into them with a silent groan, breath hitching as Kakashi’s hips came up behind to flex his well-clothed hardness against his ass again, aligned with Iruka's own this time so that he pressed into where loosened slacks now offered enough give for the taller man to rub tantalisingly between his cheeks with a quick dip of his knees and Iruka rocked back --and forth-- helplessly into full, full hardness as Kakashi’s deft fingers wrapped fully around him under his boxer-cut briefs, trying to keep still and his breathing and _everything_  quiet and unremarkable. Kakashi’s tongue flicked a deep little furrow into the dip of his collarbone and he fought the flinch and then swallowed the gasp as pressure worked a tiny circle around the tip of him, the shaft wrapped securely in the warmth of Kakashi’s fabric-and-fingers grip against the cooler air of the train carriage. “So responsive,” Kakashi marvelled, fingertips mapping the shape of him, caressing lightly, stroking firmly in no discernible pattern and leaving Iruka’s lower lip pressed hard between his teeth, eyes closed as he rode out the sensory onslaught of the sudden reality of a very public, very thorough seduction by one Hatake Kakashi. If they never spoke again after this, he’d remember that name for as long as he  _lived_ , and that voice, that voice that was still speaking in that irresistible murmur.  “So sensitive, and sensual even while you're fighting to keep it all in; you're so erotic, Iruka...so, so hot. I'm painfully envious of anyone who's ever been with, had you,” he sounded slightly startled perhaps, helpless against the realization. “I thought, at some point I wanted to be riding you, spilling on your chest; but now I also want to see you ride me, taking me all in at your leisure, see you peak and come all over me -- gods, you're so wet--” fingertips spread precum around the bulbous head and Iruka’s cock twitched as he realised the hand had left it and was coming toward his face -- but the damp fingers veered toward the right and Kakashi’s quiet moan around them shook Iruka a little. Gods. He _wanted_ him. And Iruka, Iruka wanted him back.

“Rubber,” he gasped; he needed Kakashi to get his program under way before he hijacked it and begged the man to fuck him instead, then and there.

His brain came back to semi-function as Kakashi’s practised fingers worked the condom onto his length amid his scarcely-controlled breaths and barely voiced sentiment that the other man was unfairly attractive, being ridiculously beddable (even as his Izumo-thought-voice-memory reminded him ‘-- You haven’t even seen his face!’); he didn’t usually do this, this sort of casual-encounter thing much; _gods ahh, Kakashi ahh, haah_ \--

The rest of the sexual part of the encounter was no less intimate and covert as it was sudden and unexpected, Iruka’s senses only too attuned to the taller man’s instincts -- Kakashi easily found the places on his balls that were particularly sensitive and that Iruka himself went for when he uh, self-serviced, as well as the right level of pressure on his perineum to make him gasp and shudder and the rhythm and grip Iruka had no idea he was weak to and the oral fixation he never knew he even was susceptible to until Kakashi almost-panted, breathless, “sometime, sometime -- would you allow me? Let me --” the words were as quiet as before, but muffled and Iruka realised the other was biting his lip. Leaning the slightest bit away to turn his head up to look at the man, he found his entire intention aborting as Kakashi’s fingers hit magic spots, his own mouth gasping against a pale neck as he tried at the last moment to stop his back arching too obviously, falling back heavily into the hard body pressed forward into his own as he buried his face into neck and collarbone to muffle himself, sucking lightly at fair skin without even thinking. Kakashi’s throat worked beneath his lips with a silent inhalation and swallow and Iruka pressed a moan into the rippling surface, mindlessly returning the tonguing kiss from before. His name was breathed, and Kakashi’s hands slowed deliberately as his jaw drew away a little, nuzzling at at Iruka’s hair for a brief moment. “As much as I love that, sensei,” The darkening tone in his voice made Iruka shiver even as his head cleared the slightest bit with Kakashi’s request, which it then blanked out again at. “How about leaning forward, forehead to the wall; you might want to hold on to your bag -- if it helps, sometime I want the view from my knees, looking up and watching you lose control fucking into my mouth--” Iruka had long since unthinkingly dumped the man’s novel down an open pocket of his carrier, shifting to comply almost mindlessly as his cock twitched hard in the other man’s hand and he breathed an unvoiced groan.

He came hard shortly after from the mental image and Kakashi’s mouth on his neck, his forehead against the connector-wall and knuckles in his mouth, other hand clenched tight around the strap-joint of his bag. Kakashi worked him through it, soothed him with quiet murmurs of admiration and thanks and kisses and more discreet kisses to his jaw, and by the time Iruka came back properly to himself he was tucked into his underwear with a piece of tissue for-precaution, clothing neatened as best as Kakashi was able to manage -- nothing felt out of place except Iruka’s own spill against his skin, encased in its rubber prison, carefully put away for minimal risk of accident.

“Shall we alight at the next stop, Iruka-san,” murmured Kakashi, almost conversationally; Iruka exhaled a laugh but only nodded, face flaming, and felt the taller man’s hand squeeze lightly at his waist.

Shaking hands drew his phone from the inward pocket of his bag and he tapped out an excuse for the afternoon --he’d been heading in some five hours early after all, having planned to work on the stack of students’ assignments in the office before lunch--, promising to be early for the evening's presentation.

Turning slightly to the side, Iruka murmured something about the difficulty of talking over one’s shoulder and his aversion to carrying on actual conversation back-to-front (though in practical fact he’d realised the man’s excellent hearing meant Iruka would have no repeating to do).. But then since Kakashi-san was obviously so much more articulate than he was in the morning… The taller man’s smile could practically be heard as he more than happily resumed his verbal onslaught and flirtation and Iruka wondered if he hadn’t just tripped up yet another oversight.

“I want us to be friends, I thought; to know you and your laughter and your warmth and become comfortable with each other but then I'd found I want to take you out and .make. you laugh and make you blush and take you home and watch a movie and make out some and now --most lately-- gods, I feel like want to wake up with you and wear you out again while we're still in bed and have you feel always safe and treasured for the lovely being that you are and even the rampaging monster I'm sure you also are -- I want to drown in your pleasure and find higher peaks with you, and always be the safe harbour to return to..” A sudden moment of quiet, and a self-effacing breath of laughter. “I don’t suppose I came across as the theatrical type.. I’m not even usually this bad; I think I’m intoxicated. Possibly worse than intoxicated; have I sounded like a man who keeps his cards close at all, this morning,” and the question was obviously rhetorical. Several someones shuffled outward to get a generous head start to the doors, and Iruka found space to half-turn his torso so he could see what could usually be seen of the man’s face. The expression was wondering, if sobering, and his gaze was caught and held.

"You don't even know me and I don't really know you but I am a greedy greedy man Iruka, I want so much.. But I won't touch you if you’re not on board with it. I realise at some point I must have fallen for you but it must be some measure of creepy to know a stranger feels thus..”

“..I -- you're not a stranger to me, Kakashi-san,” Iruka interjected. “There is no way I'd let a.. a real stranger do --” a vague gesture, but his flushed complexion was elaboration enough “-- that to me. Like you noticed, I do have a touch with martial arts.. And I, I'm shy on -- on certain things but my.. rampaging monster side as you put it would certainly trigger over, over the unwanted.. attentions of a real stranger. I wouldn’t have allowed it,” his face was warm as heck, and his voice was trailing off into nothingness, but their impromptu little… liaison on the train had given every indication that the man had excellent hearing, after all; “if it were anybody else.”

The taller man stared at him, just taking him in until Iruka was this close to turning red all over again. “You’d have raised holy hell, wouldn’t you..” and it wasn’t quite a question.

Iruka huffed a laugh and turned a little red anyway. “Yes. Yes, I absolutely would have.”

 

_________(omake-type)______

“Oh, my GAWD,” rang out Iwashi’s best vapid-voice, “Iruka’s got his crafty little fins into Mysterious Train-HottieStranger..! Izumo!!”

“WHAT? And you were going to keep this from us for HOW Long?!” Izumo’s face popped up from the edge of the boardroom table under which he and Genma were fiddling with projector peripherals.

Iruka’s stunned, flaming face stock-still from where he’d looked up from his laptop so fast his mental eyes were still catching up behind his reading glasses told them both Iwashi’d been right on the mark.

“....gods, guys, I spoke to him on the train For The First Time, This Morning. Give me a break; we present in 25 minutes..!”

“And he lent you his booook~” Iwashi crowed, waving the slim volume he’d fished out from the bag he was .supposed. to be checking blueprints from and Iruka could hear it as Genma grinned.

“How sweet. Whatever will he have read all day, now..?”

“Surely the man has a phone like everyone else,” Iruka shot back, attempting to herd his composure back into some semblance of working order, seeing as /that/ other horse was long bolted.

“Tell me you got his address,” Genma said from under the table, before he came back up and sat back on his haunches, pointing a remote at the projector overhead with a glance at the wall-screen the image was not-cooperating on. “So that shovel talks can happen, if nothing else.”

Iruka groaned at his laptop screen and tried not to feel touched, even as Iwashi flipped through Kakashi’s novel cursorily before swearing. “Damnit, Kotetsu wins then; it’s not the end of the month yet..!”

...really, his friends.

One successful presentation and celebratory dinner later, Iruka managed enough privacy and presence of mind to send Kakashi an email-text: “Sorry for stealing your book; I hope you weren’t bored today.”

> “What does it say that I didn’t even realise it was gone until your mail came in? I was most engagingly occupied today, sensei, all thanks to you. It was the best day I’d had in awhile. Hope your presentation went well?”

“It was a success, thank you for your concern; maybe less nerve-wracking if friends hadn’t found your book just minutes before and refused to focus during prep... X_x”

> “Ah, your friends; very protective lot, and resourceful. Are any of these five-plus-one in your Thursday group, by any chance..?”

Iruka stared at his phone. Wait, what? Wait, .five.. _five-plus-one_ what?!

He responded in much the same vein, and was replied with an inbox screenshot detailing emails from a tatami_i, shiranui-mau, mikazukidegumo, metalhead_existence, & dangolaifu. The dangolaifu message, previewed, ended off with a p/s: The Bear says he might know you. Does the Bear know you?

“I am SO Sorry. I told them absolutely nothing apart from having spoken to you for the first time this morning -- unless.. Iwashi got a good look at your book while slacking off during prep.. Just ignore them all please. I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing”

> “Not at all, sensei; they seem to be a lively lot, and it can’t be bad if they’re looking out for you, right? I don’t initial my books, but it’s possible I’d done one worse and bookmarked with a namecard -- I was… very distracted this morning ;) p/s: I have arguably more embarrassing friends; perhaps wait til you meet them before you start apologising for yours? xD”

“Thank you for being so nice about it; I’ll be dressing some folk down tmr, and they can apologise to you in person on Thursday, if you’d like to join us..? It’s just regular izakaya-evening; all five of them are regulars, the Bear’s sort of a separate entity and his presence is kind of dependent on his sun-and-moon haha. p/s: ...DO you actually know the Bear..?

> I’d be honoured to join up with for Thursday, just let me know where and when. If you’re free before that I’d be keen on meeting you whenever as well? Re: the Bear -- I might, I might not; is his sun-and-moon dark-haired and fair-skinned with a tendency to roll her eyes at cigarette-lighting?

**Author's Note:**

> [[ i’m sorry; yes kakashi talks weird in this a lot. erm, i blame it on the page in volume1 of the manga in which Kishimoto-sensei says he almost made him a _-de gozaru_ character. |D”;;; (it shows up in So Many of my AU it’s practically AU-headcanon for me.. n_n”;;) ]]
> 
> [[ the omake-type has no-head-no-tail-WIP written all over it; also missing is the entire afternoon the new ‘training buddies’ spend at a station neither of them are regulars at, getting over awkwardness and embarrassment after getting Iruka cleaned up, and further flirtation.. (this has possibly been the most OoC i’ve written these two, also; orz)]]
> 
> [[ massive sorrys also to the dedicated, longsuffering fest mods and my teammates who’ve had to put up with me and my undeadlines -- thank you for not just tossing me out altogether..! orz ]]


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